Humor in 'WWII' Uniform
by Bits And Pieces
Summary: A collection of humorous oneshots. Chapter six - Risky Business II: Lucky at Cards.  Schultz sees nothing!  Innuendo to follow...you have been warned!
1. Eau de Stalag 13

A/N: I know I said I was taking a break from the site because we're getting ready for our move, but I had some time pop up between all the packing and the errands, and came up with something funny that I thought you might like. I decided to start a little collection, so if I get a chance to add some more oneshots during our move, I'll tack them on here. Hope you like this first one, it was inspired by a picture that Deana sent me. (And if you're curious about the picture, just send me or Deana a PM.)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters. No copyright infringement is implied.

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**Eau de Stalag 13**

"C'mon, Andrew, it's your bloomin' turn!" Newkirk tapped the deck of cards impatiently.

"I know, I know," Carter replied, "Don't rush me, I'm thinking."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Blimey, we'll be 'ere all day, then!" he snorted in exasperation.

Suddenly, a terrible smell came wafting over from the far end of the table. It hit Newkirk first, and he crinkled his nose in disgust. "Cor! Oh, that's bloody awful!" he exclaimed, and started waving his hand in front of his face.

"Well, don't wave it over here!" Carter said as he caught a whiff of the offensive odor. He brought up his hand and attempted to disperse it, as well. "Geez, who did that, anyway?" He looked toward the end of the table, and saw Colonel Hogan sitting there, trying unsuccessfully to hide the guilty look on his face.

Newkirk saw him, too. "Blimey, Colonel, what are you tryin' to do, kill us?"

Hogan looked offended. "Hey, it's not my fault my, uh, system doesn't handle this prison food very well."

"What about prison food?" LeBeau asked as he walked up to join them; having finished putting the clean dishes away. Just as he reached the table, a fresh wave of nasty-smelling gas rolled through, causing him to stop in his tracks. "Sacre chat!" he shouted, making a face. Then he grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled the collar up over his nose. "Mon Colonel, that's terrible!"

Newkirk and Carter were starting to look ill by now. "Bloody 'ell, sir, that was worse than the last one!"

Carter coughed a few times; then covered his nose with his hands. "Sorry, Colonel, but I have to agree with Newkirk," he uttered.

Hogan's cheeks had a distinctive red tinge forming on them. "I told you, I can't help it. It's the food."

"But, Colonel," LeBeau mumbled through the collar of his sweater, "_I_ made dinner last night."

"That's right, you did!" Newkirk exclaimed, glancing over at the Frenchman, "You made that fish stew…no wonder the colonel's 'avin' trouble!"

"That's not fair, Newkirk, everyone else ate it, too!" LeBeau huffed.

"Not me, Louis," Newkirk answered, "I can't stand the stuff!"

LeBeau and Newkirk both glanced at Carter, who shook his head. "Sorry, LeBeau, I didn't have any, either. I was down in the lab last night, working on some fuses, remember? Kinch brought me a sandwich later."

Just then the trapdoor to the tunnel opened, and Kinch climbed out. He noticed Hogan and the rest of the men at the table, and started walking over. "Message from the Underground, Colonel, they want to know… Holy cats, what happened in here?" He asked, waving his hand in front of his nose as he reached the 'air' of contention.

"Too much ruddy fish stew," Newkirk replied, pointing to Hogan.

"All right you guys, quit it!" Hogan shot back, clearly becoming angry. "I'm not the only person to have this problem, you know. How many times have you guys had to sleep with the windows open out here, hmm?"

"That's true, sir, but…" LeBeau realized what he was about to say, and stopped.

Hogan frowned at him. "But, what?"

LeBeau lowered his collar, grimacing at the lingering smell. "Well, sir, it's just that, that…"

"What LeBeau's tryin' to say, sir," Newkirk cut in; then instantly regretted it when Hogan's glare turned in his direction, "What he's sayin, sir –no offense intended, mind you – is that, well, yours are the worst in the barracks."

Hogan's eyebrows shot up with surprise. "What? You think mine are the worst?" He glanced around to each of his men, who were all nodding slightly.

Another invisible cloud of foul odor suddenly wafted across the table, and everyone groaned.

LeBeau's eyes started watering and he quickly covered his nose with his collar again. "Oh, mon Colonel, please…have pity on us!"

"Hey, that wasn't me this time!" Hogan stated irritably. Then he grabbed the side of his jacket and pulled it over his nose. "Who did that?" he demanded.

"Not me," Newkirk answered, tugging his hat off and holding it against his nose. He glanced at Carter, who looked back with surprise.

"It wasn't me!" Carter mumbled through his hands. Everyone looked at LeBeau.

"Don't look at me!" LeBeau replied, defensively.

All eyes turned to Kinch. "Yeah, uh, sorry about that," the radioman said, "I had seconds of that fish stew last night."

"I knew it!" Newkirk looked at LeBeau, accusingly, "It _was_ your cookin', what caused this!"

"I had some, too, you know!" LeBeau retorted, "And I'm not having any trouble!"

"That's because you eat that ruddy swill all the time…you're bloody immune to it!" Newkirk shot back.

"Okay, okay, enough, already!" Hogan hollered. "Look, you know we're confined to the barracks today. If it's bothering you that much, why don't you go down to the tunnels for a while? Kinch can stay here and fill me in on the message from the Underground."

"Thank you, Colonel," Newkirk replied with relief as he got up and headed for the false-bottom bunk. Carter and LeBeau were right behind him, and as soon as the trapdoor opened, all three men scrambled below.

"Uh, that might not have been such a good idea," Kinch said as he watched the last man disappear from sight.

"Why not?" Hogan asked.

"Well, sir, I was sitting down there for a while, you know, by myself…"

Just as the trapdoor closed, Hogan and Kinch heard a collective groan rise up from below. Hogan looked at Kinch, a grin forming on his face. "Should we tell them it wasn't the fish stew?"

"Better not, sir," Kinch replied, breaking into a smile, "If they find out it was that can of beans we had earlier, we'll never get Louis to stop making it."

The End


	2. Seeing Things

A/N: This is my answer to CaptainSmirk's challenge, "Mission Debriefings in Ten Words or Less". I hope this meets the criteria! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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**Seeing Things**

"Where are they?" Hogan asked out loud for the fifth time in as many minutes. He was pacing the main barracks, checking his watch every so often, becoming more and more worried at how close it was getting to roll call. "They should have been back over an hour ago!"

"I'm sure they'll be back soon," Olsen replied lamely; knowing it wouldn't help, but wanting to say something.

Hogan shot him an irritated look. "They better be… I don't want to have to try to explain to Klink why four of my men are missing!" As he rounded the corner in front of the door to his quarters, the false-bottom bunk banged open, and he saw Carter climb out. He strode over to the American sergeant and snapped impatiently, "Carter, what took so long?"

Carter instantly noticed Hogan's irritation. His eyes widened and he replied sheepishly, "Sorry, Colonel, I heard some strange noises on the way back and figured a patrol had seen us, so when I mentioned it to the other fellas, we took off. I didn't mean to get back so late."

"Never mind you, where are the rest of the guys?" Hogan asked, glancing past him at the tunnel opening.

"What?" Carter replied, his gaze quickly sweeping the room, "Aren't they back yet?"

Hogan crossed his arms. "No, they're not."

Carter swallowed hard. "Colonel, I don't know where they are; we got separated on our way back to camp. I thought they would've made it back here by now."

Hogan scrutinized him for a moment; then dropped his arms and let out a sigh. "All right, I know it's not your fault… At least tell me you took care of the bridge."

Carter smiled. "You should have seen it, sir! We blasted that thing into a thousand pieces! It went; Blam! Kerpow! Kaflooey!" He brought his hands up and drew them apart quickly, attempting to pantomime the explosion.

"I get the picture, Carter," Hogan said and frowned at him, his irritation back.

Carter's face fell. "Sorry, sir," he apologized as he brought his hands back down and let them drop to his sides.

Hogan's expression softened. "It's okay; I'm just worried about the others… We've got roll call in a few minutes…"

Just then they heard activity below, and the next thing they knew, the three missing men were climbing up the ladder to the barracks; all of them breathing hard, like they'd just run a marathon. When they'd made it up top and closed the trapdoor, Hogan whirled on them.

"Where have you guys been?" he shouted; his voice a mixture of anger and relief, "Don't you know what time it is?"

"Yeah, you had the colonel worried sick!" Olsen piped up; then quickly shut up when Hogan threw him a glare.

The men were half-doubled over, obviously trying to catch their breath. Hogan glanced at his watch and said, "So, tell me what happened; ten words or less, guys."

Kinch spoke up first. "We saw…some kind of…creature…out in the woods..." he uttered in between gasps.

Newkirk nodded. "In the trees…it was big…'ad a scary face…"

LeBeau shook his head. "Not creature…it was a ghost…and it was pink!"

"What?" Hogan thundered, looking like he was about to blow a gasket. "Oh, come on! Do you actually expect me to believe you saw a big, scary, pink ghost in the woods? Have you guys been drinking?"

Olsen smirked. "Yeah, are you sure it wasn't a pink elephant?" he quipped.

Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk shot Olsen a dirty look. Kinch, who was beginning to breathe easier, said, "We didn't get a good look…didn't get close enough…" He was cut off when Schultz suddenly came barging into the barracks.

"Raus! Raus! Everyone outside for roll call!" Schultz bellowed.

Hogan glared at the three men in front of him and said quietly, "We'll discuss this after roll call." Then he turned and headed towards the door, gesturing for his men to follow.

As they walked outside and began to line up, Carter inwardly smiled. Oh, he knew he probably should have spent more time making the dye; he'd wanted the sheet to be orange, not pink. But at least the face he'd drawn had been scary enough; and the guys had run off long enough for him to set up his little trick. He could still picture the looks on their faces when they'd returned, and had to fight the urge to giggle.

_I wonder if they'll ever remember that tonight was Halloween?_

The End_  
_


	3. Reality Check

A/N: I wrote this in response to a discussion going on in the forum. My intention is not to offend anyone; this is meant to be a humorous satire based on the topic being discussed. It's also my attempt to get over my unfortunate writer's block. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters. I just like to write about them.

* * *

**Reality Check**

"All right, here's the plan," Hogan began, once his men joined him in his quarters after roll call, "In exactly one hour, we're going to sneak out of camp, hop in the car that's waiting for us just outside the gate, and drive to Dusseldorf. We'll meet with our contact there, get the information from him, and drive back to camp. Any questions?"

"Sir, I 'ave one," Newkirk replied, "Don't you think it's a bit dangerous; us drivin' to Dusseldorf in the daytime?"

"Oui, Colonel," LeBeau agreed, "Especially since it's so far away."

Hogan frowned. "What do you mean? It's only a thirty-minute drive from here."

"No, Colonel," Kinch piped up, "It's three and a half hours away; at least!"

"What? Our camp isn't that far from Dusseldorf, and you know it!" Hogan retorted.

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but Stalag 13 is in Bavaria."

"Newkirk, have you lost your marbles? I know darn well where Stalag 13 is; it's near Dusseldorf!"

"No, sir," Kinch cut in, "Newkirk's right; we're in Bavaria."

Hogan scowled. "And just what makes you think that?"

"Because, sir, the nearest town is Hammelburg, which is in Bavaria," Kinch replied.

Hogan appeared to contemplate it for a moment. "But we can't be in Bavaria," he said at last, "We're only sixty miles from the North Sea!"

"Then how do you explain the mountains that are nearby, or all the snow we get here?" LeBeau said.

"Well, it's…" Hogan paused, "It's because…"

"It's because of the writers, Colonel," Kinch interjected, "They weren't very consistent in where Stalag 13 was supposed to be."

Carter, who had been listening to the conversation with a perplexed expression on his face, now jumped up from his seat on the bottom bunk. "The writers?" he exclaimed, "Don't tell me you're starting up that whole thing again about us being fictional characters!"

"But we _are_, Andrew," Newkirk replied. "Blimey, didn't you learn anythin' from Fanfic Court?" (1)

Hogan shut his eyes tight, then reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right, let's not start that again!" he muttered before dropping his hand. He opened his eyes and glared at Newkirk. "Fictional or not, they _were_ writing about a real period in history; so wherever Stalag 13 is, it should make sense."

"But it doesn't, sir," Newkirk answered, "That's my point. The writers may 'ave even done that on purpose; just so our show wouldn't be confused with anythin' that really 'appened in World War II."

"Then how do you explain the D-Day episode?" Hogan asked.

"Well, sir," Newkirk replied, "They still probably wanted to give the show a touch of realism…at least once in a while."

"Well, I don't know about you fellas," Carter huffed, "But I'm tired of being made-up. I wish we were real, and this was a real POW camp, and we were all really part of history…"

"Are you crazy?" LeBeau shouted, "Do you know what our lives would be like if this was real?"

Kinch nodded. "Louie's right; things would be a lot different here if this was real."

"Oh, yeah?" Carter retorted, "How so?"

"Well, for starters," Kinch replied, "We'd all be stuck here in this camp, bored out of our minds. Imagine a barracks full of enlisted Army men – confined, bored, frustrated, miserable, inadequate showers and food – what do you think would happen?"

"What do you mean?" Carter asked.

"I mean that the men aren't going to act like they do on the show. In reality, they'd be swearing, complaining, telling dirty jokes, having burping and farting contests, talking about all the sex they've had and the girls they did it with, picking on you for being a virgin…"

"Hey!"

"It's true, Andrew," Newkirk cut in, "And even if you got them to stop doin' it to your face, they'd do it behind your back."

Carter opened his mouth to protest; then thought better of it and closed it again. At last he responded, "Well, I guess maybe it's better to be fictional after all; I mean, at least I get to do some pretty important things…even if I do get picked on a little."

They all nodded in agreement. Hogan smiled and said, "We do get a lot more accomplished than we would if we were real, don't we?"

"Oui, mon Colonel!" LeBeau replied.

"Well then," Hogan said, "Let's go over the plan again. We'll go out of camp and take the car to Dusseldorf, which will be…" He glanced at Kinch.

Kinch looked at the script. "Actually, they've got it down as twenty minutes."

Hogan rolled his eyes. "Okay, twenty minutes. Anyway, we'll meet with the contact and get the information, and come right back. Any questions?" He asked, throwing each of his men a warning glance. When no one spoke up, he smiled and said, "Good. Let's go."

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(1) Fanfic Court: written by snooky-9093


	4. Well You See, Sir, It Was Like This

**Well You See, Sir, It Was Like This**

An answer to challenge #297, by 96 Hubbles. One or more of the guys go out on a mission without Hogan. When they fail, they have to come back and explain why.

A/N: I got this idea from a scene in the movie, _The Court Jester_, from 1955, starring Danny Kaye. I watched it about a year ago, after Deana mentioned it to me. It's one of her favorite movies, and one of mine, now, too! I hope you enjoy it, even if you're not familiar with the movie. :)

* * *

Hogan paced back and forth in the tunnel; his nervousness over the current mission evident. Newkirk and Carter should have returned hours ago, and he was obviously attempting to burn off the worry as fast as it was overwhelming him. He glanced over at Kinch, who was manning the radio, and could tell he hadn't heard anything. He sighed, and continued to pace; willing his men to return safely.

Suddenly, Hogan heard voices coming from the tunnel leading to the tree stump exit, and stopped in his tracks. He and Kinch both looked in the direction of the noise, and breathed a sigh of relief when Newkirk and Carter came into view. They were arguing amongst themselves – which was certainly nothing new – but when they reached the main tunnel and saw Hogan standing there, staring at them expectantly, they quickly shut up.

Hogan didn't waste any time. "So, what happened? Did you get the information?"

Newkirk and Carter exchanged looks. Then Newkirk piped up, "Well, you see, sir, it was like this…"

"It wasn't our fault!" Carter interjected.

"Andrew, let _me_ tell 'im!"

Hogan frowned. "Someone better tell me!" he exclaimed angrily.

Newkirk took a deep breath, and began to explain. "We got to the Hoffbrau, just like we were supposed to. But, when we got inside, we didn't see the contact anywhere."

"You mean, the guy with the brace on his leg, who was supposed to have a briefcase for you?" Kinch said.

"That's just it," Carter replied, "There was a guy there with a brace, but he didn't have the briefcase with him. In fact, he didn't even know the recognition code."

Newkirk saw Hogan's expression darken, and quickly jumped in. "But the waitress knew the code, and she told us to go to the Heidelberg Hotel, where we would find the man who had the briefcase."

"Yeah, Colonel," Carter said, "She had this necklace on, that had a huge pearl right in the middle. It must have cost her a fortune! Of course, she might have a rich boyfriend, or maybe her family passed it along to her – "

"Carter," Newkirk retorted angrily, "The gov'nor doesn't care about that!"

Carter suddenly noticed both Newkirk and Hogan's glare, and quickly apologized. "Oh, yeah, sorry about that, sir."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "So, we went to the Heidelberg Hotel, but when we got there, we couldn't find the ruddy man with the briefcase. We hung around for a while, and then some man finally came by, and he knew the code."

"Yeah, he was kind of stocky, and his face was dark, like he had a deep tan – "

"Carter, do you mind?" Newkirk said, cutting him off. "Anyway," he continued, "He told us he 'ad a package for us outside, so we followed 'im into the alley."

"Probably not the smartest thing to do," Carter commented.

Newkirk shot him a warning glance; then continued. "He showed us to a car out back, and told us we'd find what we were lookin' for in the trunk. He also said we should get out of town right away. Then he gave us the keys to the car and left."

"So, did you look in the trunk?" Kinch asked, getting caught up in the story.

"We were going to," Carter answered, "But when we looked up the street, we saw some men from the Gestapo walking by, and figured that's why the guy told us to leave. So we got in the car and drove off."

Newkirk nodded at Hogan. "That's right, sir. We decided it'd be a mite safer if we drove to a remote area in the country, before 'avin' a look in the trunk." He paused, glancing nervously at Carter.

Hogan leaned against the table and folded his arms. "Go on," he said calmly, trying to keep his growing impatience at bay.

Newkirk took a deep breath. "Well, sir, we 'eaded out of town, and drove back in the direction of Stalag 13 – "

"Yeah, and right when we were getting close, we got a flat tire!"

"Andrew, who's tellin' this – you, or me?"

"Oh, uh, sorry, Newkirk. Go ahead."

Newkirk saw Hogan's frown deepen, and forged ahead. "Right, so we pulled over and got out of the car. We went 'round back to open the trunk, and as soon as we did – "

"We saw the man with the brace on his leg in there, and he was pointing a gun at us!"

"Carter!" Newkirk exclaimed angrily.

Carter looked at him apologetically. "I can't help it, I just get excited – "

"Get on with it!" Hogan shouted in exasperation.

"Yes, sir," Newkirk replied sheepishly. "Carter's right, the man with the brace was in the trunk, and he 'ad the briefcase with 'im. When he saw it was us, he put 'is gun away and climbed out of the trunk – with a little 'elp from us. Then he told us he was tryin' to get out of town because a group of Russian spies were after the briefcase."

"Yeah, and then, all of a sudden this car showed up, and a bunch of men jumped out, and one of 'em was the guy from the Heidelberg Hotel. And they had the girl from the Hoffbrau with them, too!"

Kinch raised his eyebrow. "You mean the waitress that had the pearl necklace?" he asked.

"Yeah. Boy, was she pretty! Not very nice, though."

"Carter, I'm warnin' you," Newkirk muttered threateningly.

Carter's eyes widened with indignation. "Well, geez, Newkirk, I'm just trying to help! I was there, too, you know."

"Fine, Andrew, you tell the gov'nor then!"

"No, it's all right, Newkirk, you can tell him."

Hogan glared at them. "I'm gonna court-martial you both if you don't tell me what happened right now!"

Carter gulped. "Yes, sir," he shot a glance at Newkirk, and continued, "Well, the guy from the Heidelberg Hotel, you know, the one with the tan, well, he pulled a gun on us and told the guy with the brace to hand over the briefcase and come with him. Then one of the other guys looked into the trunk that we'd just opened, and pulled out a sack."

"The sack was full of money, Colonel." Newkirk said, picking up the story, "The man from the Hotel took it out of the sack and stuffed it into 'is pockets. Then he threw the empty sack back into the trunk, and made the man with the brace get into his car."

"Yeah, and then they all got in the car and drove away," Carter said, "Except for the guy who pulled the sack out of the trunk. I think he was supposed to take care of us, if you know what I mean." Carter fashioned his hand like a gun, put his index finger to his head, and, pulling his thumb down; shouted, "Bang!"

Newkirk scowled at him. "I think the gov'nor understands, Carter." He looked back at Hogan. "He started yellin' at us, in Russian, I think, and pointed to the tire. So I went over and pulled out the jack, and changed the ruddy tire meself – "

"I would have helped you if I could, but that guy had his gun pointed at me!"

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "When I finished, I went to put the jack away. I waited until that Russian bloke wasn't lookin', and I stuffed the jack into the empty sack that was in the trunk. Then I showed the sack to 'im, and told 'im it looked like there was still money in it. He walked over to see, and when he bent over, I brought up the sack and 'it him in right on 'is head!"

"Yeah, you should have seen it, Colonel! The Russian guy fell right over. I bet Newkirk gave him one heck of a concussion!"

"Then what happened?" Kinch asked, totally engrossed in the tale by now.

"We picked up the Russian, and stuffed 'im into the trunk," Newkirk said, "Then we closed the trunk and tossed the key up into the nearest tree."

Carter nodded. "Yeah, and then we came back here, and saw you waiting for us. And that's what happened, Colonel."

Hogan stared at them for a moment, trying to make sense of what he'd just heard. "So, let me get this straight," he said at last, "You met the man with the brace who had the case – "

Newkirk shook his head. "No, the man with the brace didn't 'ave the case."

"That's right," Hogan replied, "So, you went to see the man without a brace, who had the case – "

"Uh, no, sir," Carter interrupted, "Actually, the girl with the pearl sent us to see the man with the tan, but he didn't have the case, either."

"Okay," Hogan tried again, "The man with the brace didn't have the case, so the girl with the pearl sent you to see the man with the tan."

"Right!" Newkirk exclaimed, "Now you're gettin' it!"

"Only, the man with the tan didn't have the case, either," Hogan continued, "But he gave you the keys to a car, and you drove away. Then you had a flat tire, and when you opened the trunk, the man with the brace was there, and he had the case."

"Yes, sir!" Carter responded enthusiastically, "The man with the brace _did_ have the case!"

"Then the man with the tan and the girl with the pearl showed up, and took away the man with the brace who had the case," Hogan said.

"You've got it, gov'nor," Newkirk replied, smiling.

"Then the man with the tan left a Russian agent to get rid of you, two," Hogan said, glancing back and forth between Newkirk and Carter, "But you knocked him out with the jack in the sack."

Newkirk nodded. "Right, Colonel."

"Then, you put the Russian with the concussion into the trunk, and threw the key into a tree, and came back here," Hogan concluded.

"Yes, that's it; you've got it, sir!" Newkirk exclaimed.

Hogan let out a big sigh. "Yeah, I got it; I just wish I understood it!"

"It's simple, sir," Kinch piped up, "You want me to repeat it?"

"No!" Hogan exclaimed, "I think I've heard enough." He let out a sigh. "Well, in any case, it's time to get some sleep. We'll go over the details again in the morning." He gestured for the men to go up to the barracks, and followed after. Newkirk was the last to climb up the ladder ahead of him, and just before the Englishman disappeared, Hogan stopped him and said, "Next time I would appreciate a clearer explanation. Get it?"

Newkirk nodded. "Got it."

Hogan smiled. "Good."


	5. One Strudel Too Many

Schultz eats too much strudel, and ends up regretting it. Inspired by "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."

A/N: I came up with this idea over a year ago, and finally got around to writing it. Hope you like it! I won't be around much in November; I signed up for the National Novel Writing Month for the first time. Should be fun!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hogan's Heroes characters. No copyright infringement is intended or implied.

* * *

**One Strudel Too Many**

"Are Carter and Newkirk back, sir?" LeBeau asked as he slipped through the door into the barracks.

"Not yet," Hogan answered, who was standing next to the stove, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "They should be here any minute. You're gonna have to go back outside and keep Schultz busy a little longer."

"But, mon Colonel, he's already eaten a whole strudel!" LeBeau exclaimed, tossing an empty plate on the table.

"That's why you made extra, isn't it?" Hogan said, picking up the second plate of strudel and handing it to LeBeau.

"Yes, sir," LeBeau replied dejectedly. He took the full plate and headed back out of the barracks, mumbling, "Not only am I Schultz's personal pastry chef, I am his waiter, too!"

LeBeau didn't even get to the end of the building, when Schultz rounded the corner and almost ran right into him, nearly knocking the plate out of his hand.

"Hey, be careful, Schultz! Look what you almost made me do!"

"I'm sorry, cockroach, I didn't see you, and I…" Schultz stopped, and inhaled deeply. Then he smiled and said, "Is that more strudel I smell?"

LeBeau returned the smile. "Oui, Schultzie, I made extra…just for you."

"Oh, you are my favorite cockroach – er, I mean, prisoner!"

LeBeau forced himself to hold his smile, and held out the plate. "Go ahead, help yourself."

Schultz reached for the plate, but his hand stopped inches from it. "Nein, I need to do a bed check of the barracks; I should have done it ten minutes ago."

"Oh, go ahead, Schultz, everyone's in there; I counted them myself."

Schultz hesitated only a second more; then he snatched the plate from LeBeau's hand and said, "Well, I guess it can wait a few more minutes…I mean, since you already counted…" He picked up the fork and began to stuff his face.

LeBeau kept smiling, even though he was inwardly rolling his eyes.

"Mmm, LeBeau, you have outdone yourself... This is Wun-der-_bar_!" Schultz exclaimed after swallowing his third bite, "No one makes strudel like you!" He dug his fork into the warm, apple cinnamon pastry, scooped up another large portion, and shoved it into his mouth; moaning with delight.

"Thanks, Schultz," LeBeau replied, willing the big German guard to slow down, while at the same time wondering how anyone – even Schultz – could eat that much strudel.

A few more minutes passed, and LeBeau heard the familiar sound of a fork scraping against an empty plate. When he saw Schultz stick the fork in his mouth to get every last morsel from it, he knew the sergeant was finished.

Schultz dropped the fork onto the plate, and handed it to LeBeau. "Oh, I am so full," he muttered as the Frenchman took the plate from him, "I couldn't eat another bite!"

"I'm glad you liked it, Schultzie," LeBeau replied. "I'll tell Colonel Hogan that you stopped by." He turned toward the barracks door, but Schultz stopped him with a hand on the shorter man's shoulder.

"Wait a minute," Schultz said, "I'm still supposed to do a bed check. I'm coming with you."

"It's really not necessary, everyone's there; just like I told you."

"I have to see for myself; you know that, LeBeau!"

LeBeau shrugged. "Suit yourself," he answered, while inwardly crossing his fingers that Newkirk and Carter were back by now. He walked over and, after grabbing the doorknob to the barracks, pulled the large, wooden door open slowly, and caught Hogan's eye.

"There you are, LeBeau!" Hogan called out. Then he saw who was behind him and said, "Oh, hi Schultz…come to do your nightly bed check?"

"Ja, Colonel Hogan."

"Well, we're all here," Hogan replied.

"That's what LeBeau said, but I have to see for myself."

Hogan nodded.

Schultz walked through the barracks and counted the men; briefly wondering why Carter and Newkirk were sitting on the bunk near the end of the barracks, panting like they'd just run a race. He opened his mouth to ask; then quickly shut it again. No, he didn't want to know.

When he'd finished, he turned to Hogan and, with a satisfied grin, stated, "Everybody is here."

"Of course they are," Hogan responded, "Where else would they be?"

Schultz was about to reply, when suddenly he frowned and put his hand to his stomach. "Oh, I think I ate too much strudel."

Carter looked at him with concern. "Maybe you should go lie down."

Schultz shook his head. "I can't; I have to patrol outside the gate tonight."

"Well, maybe they won't notice if you find a place to sit and rest for a little while," Carter suggested.

"Maybe," Schultz replied.

"Mind you don't fall asleep, though," Newkirk piped up, a smirk on his face, "You don't want General Burkhalter findin' you like that again, and sendin' you to the Russian Front." (1)

"Don't worry, I won't!" Schultz exclaimed.

Schultz left the barracks and headed towards the gate. When he reached his assigned area, he began to walk his post at his usual pace, but before long he started to slow down; all that strudel had left him feeling bloated and tired – not to mention the cramp that had formed in his side. He glanced around and, seeing no one in the vicinity, edged into the woods a few yards or so, and found a nice wide log resting next to a large tree trunk. _Maybe I will sit down for a few minutes…what could it hurt? _He sat down on the log and leaned back against the tree. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, and before long, he was asleep.

* * *

A noise filtered into his brain, and Schultz startled awake. He blinked his eyes a few times; then glanced around wildly for a moment or two, trying to remember where he was. He recognized the log he was sitting on and started to relax, when his eyes suddenly widened in alarm – it was daytime! He must have slept through the night! _Donnerwetter! The Kommandant will be furious with me! _

He got up and hurried back in the direction of the camp, but when he emerged from the trees, there was nothing there. No Stalag 13; just a huge field ringed by more forest, going back as far as he could see. The area didn't look familiar at all, and he glanced around furtively. "What's going on?" he said aloud to himself, "Where am I?"

He heard a sound directly behind him, and whirled around. There, not twenty feet away, was Carter, dressed in a white suit, and he was staring at his wristwatch; clucking his tongue, a frown on his face. "I'm late!" he exclaimed, "I better hurry up, boy!"

Schultz's eyes widened with both surprise and relief. "Carter! Am I glad to see you!"

Carter looked up at the German sergeant. "Oh, hi ya, Schultzie," he said, raising his hand to give him a quick wave. "Sorry, I can't talk to you right now; I'm really late!" He turned around and strode quickly into the stand of trees behind him.

"Carter, wait!" Schultz called out, running after him as best he could, "Where are you going?" He tried to follow the American sergeant, but he couldn't keep up, and soon lost sight of him. He slowed his pace, trying to catch his breath, wondering what he should do now, when he stepped into a clearing and saw a large German tank sitting there, right in front of him. As he looked up, his eyes popped wide; there, sitting cross-legged on top of the tank, was Newkirk!

"Newkirk!" Schultz yelled up to him, "What are you doing up there?"

Newkirk glanced down at the big Sergeant. "Is that you, Schultz? Blimey, you've gotten smaller, 'aven't you?"

Schultz frowned. "I haven't gotten smaller, Newkirk, I just look smaller because I'm standing down here, and you're sitting on top of a tank!"

"I am?" Newkirk said, surprised. He looked around briefly and exclaimed, "Why, so I am!"

Schultz watched as Newkirk lifted a long, thin, metal tube to his mouth, and inhaled deeply; then removed it and blew smoke rings lazily into the air. The metal tube was connected to what looked like a hose, which in turn was attached to a large glass ball that had a small amount of liquid in it. Schultz recognized the contraption: it was a hookah. (2)

Schultz heaved a sigh; he was growing more and more frustrated by the minute. "Newkirk, come down here at once!" he yelled at the Englishman, "You need to get back to camp!" He paused for a moment; then added, "Come to think of it, _I_ need to get back to camp!"

Newkirk eyed him curiously. "'Ere now, Schultz, what's your hurry?" He took another drag from the hookah and exhaled slowly; then patted a spot next to him on the tank. "Why don't you come up 'ere and join me? It's a lovely view."

Schultz's eyes widened. "Me? Climb up the tank? You can't be serious!"

"Sure I am!" Newkirk leaned forward slightly and gazed calmly down at him. "You know what you need, Schultzie? You need to relax…you're too tense." He sat back and grinned. "Come on up; I'll even let you 'ave a smoke."

Schultz was tired of trying to talk sense to the Englander. "Newkirk, if you won't come down, at least tell me if you can see Stalag 13 from up there."

Newkirk smiled. "I can see all kinds of things from up 'ere."

"Newkirk, please…" His voice trailed off as he caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head just in time to see Carter hurrying away along a path in the woods, muttering, "I'm late, I'm late!"

Once again Schultz ran after him. "Carter, slow down!" he shouted, "Wait for me!" He tried not to lose him this time, but the American sergeant disappeared into an area of dense foliage, and was gone.

Schultz pushed through the vegetation, hoping to spot Carter, when he suddenly emerged into another clearing, and stopped in his tracks. Right in front of him stood Colonel Klink, and he appeared to be in a heated discussion with Major Hochstetter. The desk from Klink's office was separating the two men, and Schultz wondered briefly what the Kommandant's desk was doing out here in the middle of nowhere, but he dismissed that thought when he heard what the two men were arguing about.

"Klink! I know Hogan is out here somewhere! You let him escape!"

"I did not let him escape, Major! He…he forced his way out of camp!"

"I don't care how he got out! I want him found immediately!"

Schultz inadvertently cleared his throat, and both men turned their heads to glare at him. The German Sergeant's eyes popped wide; Hochstetter had suddenly sprouted devil horns and a long, red tail!

"Sergeant Schultz! What are you doing out here?" Klink yelled at him.

"Never mind what he's doing out here," Hochstetter growled, "Ask him if he's seen Hogan!"

"Well, have you?" Klink snapped.

Schultz stood there for a moment; completely dumbfounded. At last he opened his mouth. "Kommandant, I haven't seen Colonel Hogan, but – "

"Well, don't just stand there, go find him!" Hochstetter shrieked, his face becoming as red as his tail.

"Jawohl, Herr Major!" Schultz exclaimed, saluting smartly. He abruptly turned around and ran back into the woods, intending to get as far away from Hochstetter as possible. He pushed his way back through the dense brush, and stumbled upon another path. He frowned and shook his head_. I swear that wasn't here before, _he thought; then shrugged his shoulders. _I might as well see where it goes. _

He began to follow it, determined to find his way back to camp while trying not to think too much about all the strange things he'd encountered since he woke up. The longer he walked, the more convinced he became that he was hopelessly lost. At last, tired and frustrated, he stopped walking and – noticing a tree stump next to the path – sat down, placed his elbows on his thighs, and put his head in his hands. "Oh, what's the use?" he mumbled dejectedly, "I'll never find it."

"Depends on what you're looking for," came a voice from the other side of the path, "Once you find it; look no more!"

Schultz's head snapped up. There, standing directly across from him, was Colonel Hogan. He was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, and he had a big grin on his face.

Schultz was positive Hogan hadn't been there a second ago, but he was so relieved to see someone he knew, that he didn't care. "Colonel Hogan!" he exclaimed, "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

"If you say what you mean; I am glad to be seen," Hogan replied cryptically.

"Colonel Hogan, I can't find my way back to camp, and I…" His brow suddenly furrowed with confusion, "Why are you talking like that?"

"One more question; then I'll go." Hogan leaned forward slightly. "Do you really want to know?"

"Nein!" Schultz exclaimed. "But Major Hochstetter is looking for you – "

"The major always looks for me," Hogan interjected, "Always looks, but doesn't see." Hogan reached up and tapped a finger to his temple. "I am craftier than he!"

"Colonel Hogan, please!" Schultz exclaimed in exasperation. "Please, just tell me how to get back to Stalag 13."

Hogan raised his arm and pointed up the trail. "Your answer lies beyond the hill," he said; then dropped his arm and added, "Of questions, I have had my fill!"

Schultz looked in the direction Hogan was pointing. He stared for a moment, then let out a sigh and said, "I don't see anything." He turned his head to look back at Hogan, but he was gone.

"Colonel Hogan?" Schultz called out, sweeping his gaze frantically around the immediate area. "Colonel Hogan?" he called again, his voice rising in a panic. Finally he shouted, "Colonel Hogan!"

No answer.

Sighing, Schultz took off up the path, wondering who – or what – he was going to run into now. As he crested the hill, he caught sight of a familiar flash of white, and shouted, "Carter!"

Carter, who was standing at the bottom of the hill facing the other direction, immediately turned around. "There you are!" he exclaimed, "Well, come on, Schultz, don't just stand there, we've been waiting for you."

"You have?" Schultz replied curiously. He hurried down to where Carter was standing.

"Yeah, Schultz," Carter said, grabbing his arm and leading him forward, "We can't start the party without you!"

Schultz was getting more confused by the minute. "You're having a party? Out here, in the forest?"

"Sure! We do it all the time." Carter smiled at him; then stepped into a clearing, pulling Schultz with him. "See?"

Schultz's jaw dropped. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. There was a long table sitting in the middle of the clearing; the same table from Barracks two, and the stove from the barracks was standing next to it. Kinch was sitting at the table, wearing headphones and fiddling with some type of gadget, and LeBeau was flitting around the stove, mumbling to himself.

But what really got Schultz's attention were the monkeys.

Hundreds of monkeys; scampering throughout the entire clearing, jumping up and down on the table, climbing on Kinch, and trying to snatch whatever it was LeBeau had on the stove. The Frenchman would shoo them away angrily, only to have new ones take their place.

"Wha…what's going on, here?" Schultz blurted out after finding his voice.

"Oh, you know, Schultzie," Carter replied calmly, "It's our monkey business."

"Monkey business!" Schultz exclaimed. He put a hand to his head. "Oh, I need to sit down."

Carter guided him over to the table, and Schultz quickly took a seat. Several monkeys immediately jumped up on him; one of them even climbing to his shoulders and perching himself there as he started grooming the big German's hair. Schultz tried to brush them off, but they screeched angrily and clutched at his uniform. He looked at Kinch, who was in a similar way; the monkeys were grabbing at the gadget in his hands, and kept trying to snatch his headphones off.

Schultz frowned. "Sergeant Kinch, why are you wearing headphones?"

Kinch looked up at him. "No reason," he answered.

A monkey suddenly grabbed the collar of Schultz's uniform and started jumping up and down on his shoulder. "This is terrible!" Schultz lamented, "I'm lost in the woods, Major Hochstetter has turned into a devil, and I'm covered with monkeys!"

LeBeau walked over with a plate in his hands. "Here, Schultzie, I made something to cheer you up." He set the plate in front of him – it was strudel.

Schultz's eyes widened in horror. "Nooooo!" he yelled, jumping up from the table. He took off for the trees, grabbing at the monkeys that were clinging to him and tossing them to the ground. By the time he hit the forest, he was monkey-free. He kept running as long as he could, until his strength – and his breath – gave out. He stopped and leaned against a tree, sucking in huge gasps of air. As he slowly caught his breath, he tried to think of what to do next, but nothing came to him. "This is a nightmare!" he croaked out, shutting his eyes tight as his anxiety and frustration threatened to overwhelm him.

"It's only a dream; or so it would seem."

Shultz's eyes flew open. There was Colonel Hogan, standing right in front of him again, that same weird grin plastered to his face.

"Please, Colonel Hogan," Schultz begged, "Help me get back to camp."

Hogan's grin widened just a little. "You only need ask… But you still have one task."

Schultz eyed him warily. "And what would that be?"

"Bring me the broomstick of the Wicked Witch of the West – " (3) Hogan stopped and covered his mouth, noisily clearing his throat. "Sorry, wrong story," he mumbled into his hand. He removed his hand and pointed through the trees. "Your destiny lies there; be careful, or beware!" Then, right before Schultz's eyes, he vanished into thin air.

Schultz, taken by surprise, opened his mouth to call out to him, when he stopped himself; shaking his head instead. "I was right; this _is_ a nightmare!" he uttered under his breath. With a sigh, he turned and walked in the direction Hogan had shown him; silently hoping he wouldn't run into any more monkeys.

He reached another clearing and, taking a big breath, stepped out into it. His eyes widened in shock; it was a courtroom!

Well, part of a courtroom, anyway. There were no walls or ceiling, but there was a judge's bench, a witness stand, a jury box, and rows of benches that were already filled with people. Most of the spectators were guards from the camp, but Hogan and his men were there; taking up the front row. Klink was sitting at the defense table, and Hochstetter, complete with horns and tail, was in the prosecutor's position.

"All rise!" Someone called out, and everyone quickly stood up. A very large figure wearing a cloak with a hood that was pulled over his head approached the judge's bench, and all eyes turned in his direction. The figure reached his chair and pushed the hood from his head – it was General Burkhalter!

"Sergeant Schultz, you will take the witness stand this instant!" Burkhalter bellowed, glaring straight at him.

Schultz tried to swallow, but his throat had gone dry. He pointed to himself and squeaked, "Who, me?"

"Yes, you!" Burkhalter thundered.

Schultz tried to take a step forward, but his legs wouldn't move. He inhaled a big breath, willing himself to calm down, and tried again. This time it worked, and he made his way slowly to the witness stand. It didn't help that all the spectators were intently watching his every move. When he got there, he sat down on the chair and looked around nervously.

Hochstetter stood up and approached him. "Isn't it true, Sergeant, that you fell asleep at your post outside the gate, just like you did that one time in Colonel Hogan's barracks?"

"Objection!" Klink yelled, jumping to his feet.

"What is your objection?" Burkhalter asked.

"How would Hochstetter know about that? He wasn't there!"

"You have a point, Klink," Burkhalter conceded, "However, objection overruled!"

"Hey, that's not fair!" Hogan exclaimed, glaring at Hochstetter from the front row, "You weren't there!"

"You weren't there!" Hogan's men repeated, pointing at Hochstetter.

Hochstetter turned bright red, and smoke began pouring out of his ears. His face screwed up like he was about to explode; then he pointed back at Hogan and screamed, "WHAT IS THIS MAN DOING HERE?"

"Silence!" Burkhalter yelled, banging his gavel on the desktop, "I am in charge, here!"

The crowd quieted down. Burkhalter leaned forward and looked at Schultz. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, Sergeant?"

Schultz cleared his throat nervously. "Herr General, I… What I mean is… You see, LeBeau kept bringing me strudel, and everybody knows how I can't resist –"

"Enough!" Burkhalter roared. He stood up, raised his hand, and pointed a finger accusingly at Schultz. "Off to the Russian Front!"

Pandemonium broke out among the spectators. The guards stood up and began shouting. "Off to the Russian Front!" Hogan and his men got into a heated argument with Hochstetter, and Klink was slowly edging away from the defense table; glancing at the trees longingly.

Schultz figured it was now or never. He got up and, without a backward glance, ran for the forest. He almost made it, when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. "No, let me go!" he shouted, but he couldn't shake the hand off. "Let me go! I don't want to go to the Russian Front!"

"Hey, Schultzie, what are you talking about?"

Schultz startled and opened his eyes. It was dark, and he was outside. He shook his head to clear it; then noticed he was back on the log he'd originally sat down on, and the hand was still on his shoulder. He looked up and saw LeBeau staring at him with concern. "LeBeau, wha…what happened? Where am I?"

LeBeau smiled. "You fell asleep, Schultz."

"I did?"

"Oui; and you must have been having one crazy dream, by the sound of it."

"It was all a dream?" Schultz muttered; then he smiled with relief. "It was all a dream!" he exclaimed. "Oh, thank goodness! You would never believe what I…" His voice trailed off and he frowned. "LeBeau, what are you doing outside of camp?"

The Frenchman thrust out his hand, which held a small tin cup. "I brought you something for your indigestion."

Schultz's eyes widened with surprise. "You did?" He took the offered cup and drank what was in it; then handed the cup back to LeBeau. "Danke, LeBeau; that was very nice of you."

"Don't mention it," LeBeau replied, patting his shoulder. "You should feel better soon." He glanced around and then said, "Well, I better get back to the barracks."

Schultz's eyes narrowed. "You're not going to try to escape, are you?"

"Oh, c'mon, Schultz, don't you trust me? And here I was, doing something nice for you – "

"All right, all right," Schultz cut in. "Just don't get caught."

"Don't worry, I won't." LeBeau turned to leave, when he suddenly looked back at Schultz. "How about I make some nice apple strudel for you?" he teased.

"Oh, please, don't mention strudel!" Schultz exclaimed.

LeBeau chuckled and once again turned to go. He'd barely taken a step, when Schultz called out to him.

"You know what would be nice, cockroach? Some potato pancakes!"

LeBeau shook his head. It was going to be a long night.

THE END

* * *

(1) _The Sergeant's Analyst,_ Hogan's Heroes episode, season five

(2) Hookah: in Southwest and South Asia, a pipe for smoking tobacco, consisting of a flexible tube with a mouthpiece attached to a container of water through which smoke is drawn and cooled. – Encarta English Dictionary

(3) Line taken from, _The Wizard of Oz._


	6. Risky Business II: Lucky at Cards

A/N: I know I haven't written anything in a long time; this year has been crazy busy so far for me. Plus, my muse decided to take a hike for a while. I would like to thank ColHogan for giving me the idea for this story; I hope it got my muse working again!

Warning: Warped sense of humor to follow...read at your own risk!

* * *

Risky Business II: Lucky at Cards

Corporal Newkirk glanced at the tense faces around him; knowing they were waiting for him to make his move. He eyed them dispassionately for a few moments longer; then, with a smirk forming on his face, slapped his cards face-up onto the table.

"Gin!"

"What, again?" Corporal LeBeau exclaimed, glancing at Newkirk's cards; then eyeing the Englishman suspiciously, "Now I _know_ you're cheating; that's four in a row!"

"I resent that, Louis," Newkirk replied, raising his eyebrows in mock indignation, "I'm not a cheater!" He leaned back slightly and grinned. "Can't help it if I'm lucky at cards, mate."

"Well, you know what they say," Sergeant Kinch, who was sitting across the table from them, spoke up, "Lucky at cards…" His voice trailed off and he smiled slightly at Newkirk.

LeBeau looked at Kinch and frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's an American saying," Kinch answered, "Lucky at cards…"

"Unlucky at love!" Sergeant Carter piped up from his spot next to Kinch.

All eyes turned to stare at Newkirk, who shifted uncomfortably. "I'll have you know, I'm very lucky at love!" he replied defensively. "Why, I've got more birds waitin' for me back in England…"

"Then, you _were_ cheating!" LeBeau interjected.

"I was _not_ cheatin'!"

"Well, if you are lucky at love, then…"

LeBeau was interrupted by the door to the back office opening. Colonel Hogan stepped out into the main barracks and, spotting the men playing cards at the table, called out sternly, "Newkirk, in my office…now!"

Newkirk's face fell. He shot a disappointed look at his fellow card-players; then got up and headed over to where Hogan was standing. After one glance at the colonel, he ducked into the office.

Hogan followed him in, turning around briefly to address the rest of his men. "I do not want us to be disturbed under any circumstances...is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," the men mumbled in unison.

Hogan nodded tersely; then shut the door.

"Boy, the colonel sure didn't look too happy, did he?" Carter announced as he stared at the closed door.

"He never does," Kinch replied, "Ever since he and Newkirk came back from that mission two weeks ago."

LeBeau nodded. "Oui, and Newkirk hasn't been himself, either. Colonel Hogan has been pulling him into his office almost every night. The colonel's been in such a bad mood lately…" He paused for a moment; then added, "What do you think is going on in there?"

Kinch shrugged. "I don't know, Louis. My guess is, Newkirk's being punished for something….and I'll bet it has something to do with whatever happened on that mission."

"You think so?" Carter asked.

"What else could it be?" Kinch answered.

"Hey, Carter," LeBeau addressed the American sergeant, "Has he said anything to you?"

Carter slowly shook his head. "No, he won't tell me what's going on."

"He won't tell _anyone_ what's going on," Kinch replied, and began to gather up the cards.

LeBeau leaned in and lowered his voice. "Well, all I know is, the colonel seems to be in a much better mood when Newkirk comes back out."

Carter's brow furrowed. "So, whatever's bothering the colonel, he must be taking it out on Newkirk…"

Carter fell silent. The three men glanced at each other; then bowed their heads slightly.

"Poor Newkirk," LeBeau said quietly, shaking his head.

The door to the barracks opened just then, and Sergeant Schultz hurried inside. His gaze quickly fell on the three men seated at the table, and he rushed over. "Where is Colonel Hogan? I need to speak to him right away!"

"Uh, he's in his office," Carter blurted out.

"But he can't be disturbed!" exclaimed LeBeau, throwing Carter a dirty look.

"But the Kommandant wants to see him immediately," Schultz said as he headed for Hogan's office. When he got to the door, he raised his hand to knock.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Kinch warned.

Schultz hesitated; his hand hanging in mid-air. He didn't want Hogan to be cross with him, but he didn't want to face Colonel Klink's wrath, either.

As Schultz debated what to do, he heard the sound of voices coming from the small room, and strained to make out what they were saying. The sounds were muffled, so he leaned his head closer, and before he knew it, he had his ear pressed against the door.

"Colonel, how much longer do we have to go sneakin' around like this?"

_That's Newkirk's voice_, Schultz thought to himself, unconsciously leaning harder against the door.

"I told you, Newkirk, I don't want anyone else to know...oh, that's it, right there…"

Schultz frowned. _That's definitely Colonel Hogan's voice, but what is he talking about?_

"But, Colonel, I think they're getting suspicious…"

"You let me deal with them, okay? Just keep doing what you're doing…oh, yeah, Newkirk, that's it, that's it, don't stop…"

Schultz's eyes popped wide._ Donnerwetter! What is going on?_

"Keep going, don't stop, ah, Newkirk, that feels sooo good! Yes, that's it, you've got it, right there, that's the spot…harder, harder, don't stop…oooh, Peter, your hands are magic…keep going, that's it, that's it…"

Schultz pulled his ear away from the door like it was on fire. _That can't be what it sounds like…it just can't be! Oh, what am I going to do? The Kommandant will be furious with me if I come back without Colonel Hogan! But, how can I go in there…?_

Summoning his nerves, Schultz grabbed the door handle with one hand, and covered his eyes tightly with the other. He mentally counted to three; then flung the door open with all his might. He took one big step into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Then he opened his mouth and shouted the first thing that popped into his head; "I see nothing!"

"Schultz, what are you doing in here?" Hogan said, sounding surprised.

The German sergeant, his hand still firmly plastered on his face, replied, "Colonel Hogan, I only came to tell you that the Kommandant wants to see you right away!"

"Why do you have your hand over your eyes?" asked Hogan.

"Because…because…I see nothing!"

"Okaayy," Hogan said, "But, there's nothing in here that you can't see."

Schultz slowly lowered his hand, and blinked his eyes open. He saw Hogan – who was shirtless – straddling a chair backwards; his arms resting on the back of it. Newkirk was standing behind him, and he had his hands on Hogan's left shoulder. He appeared to be giving the American colonel a massage, and Schultz blinked again; just to be sure.

When he finally found his voice, Schultz asked, "Colonel Hogan, what is going on?"

Hogan heaved a sigh. "Well, if you must know; I wrenched my shoulder a few weeks ago, and Newkirk's been helping to make it better."

Schultz breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, so _that's_ what you were doing in here!"

"Sure, Schultzie…what did you think we were doin'?" Newkirk asked.

Schultz's face turned beet red. "Well, the way you were talking, I thought; well, I thought…" He coughed lightly and looked at the wall.

Hogan got it first. His eyes flew wide, and he exclaimed, "Schultz! How could you even think something like that?"

Newkirk got it then, too. He gasped and stared at the guard indignantly. "Shame on you, Schultz!" he scolded, "You actually thought that the gov'nor and I were…were…"

"Trust me, I'll never get _that_ lonely," Hogan cut in, shooting a glance at Newkirk.

Newkirk smirked at him. "Don't worry, sir; you're not my type."

If it was possible to look more embarrassed, Schultz was succeeding at it. "Colonel Hogan, Newkirk, I'm very sorry, I know I shouldn't jump to conclusions…"

"You also shouldn't eavesdrop," Hogan chided him as he stood up and began to put his shirt on, "But, I'll let it go this time, if you tell me why Klink wants to see me."

Schultz sighed. "The Kommandant wants you to help him decide what to wear for his date tonight."

"Klink's got a date?" Newkirk asked, surprised.

"Ja, with that pretty new waitress at the Hofbrau."

Newkirk shook his head. "Some bloke's have all the luck…" he mumbled under his breath.

"I don't think Klink's one of them," Hogan countered.

Newkirk smiled. "Maybe he's lucky at cards."

Hogan grinned. "Maybe." He looked at Schultz and said, "Let's get this over with."

Schultz turned to leave, when he suddenly remembered something the two men had brought up in their earlier conversation, and a question struck him. He turned back and asked, "Colonel Hogan, how come you don't want anyone to know about your shoulder?"

"Oh, you know how it is, Schultz," Hogan said, "I'm in charge of the prisoners in this camp; I have an image to maintain. I can't afford to appear weak. Besides," he added, a lopsided smile forming on his face, "The men already worry about me too much."

Newkirk stepped up next to Hogan and put his arm around the colonel's shoulders. "Yes, sir, they do at that," he affirmed with a quick nod.

Hogan turned his head and glanced at Newkirk's hand on his shoulder; then looked back at the Englishman and raised an eyebrow.

Newkirk's eyes widened slightly. He quickly dropped his arm and took a step away from Hogan. The colonel smirked at him, and Newkirk could feel his cheeks growing warm. He cleared his throat and said, "Sir, shouldn't you be on your way to see Klink?"

Hogan sidled up to Newkirk and tossed his arm around the corporal's shoulders. "You in a hurry to get rid of me?" he asked, the smirk still plastered on his face.

Newkirk shifted uncomfortably. "No, sir! I…just wouldn't want you to get in trouble, is all."

Hogan chuckled and removed his arm. He walked over to the double rack and retrieved his cap from the top bunk. "All right, Schultz, lead the way," he said, motioning to the door.

Schultz opened the door and headed out into the barracks; Hogan and Newkirk following behind. As they neared the table, three heads turned to look in their direction.

"Everything all right, Colonel?" Kinch asked, sounding concerned.

"Yes, everything's fine," Hogan answered, "I just have to see a man about a date." He hurried to catch up to Schultz, who had already exited the barracks.

Newkirk walked over and re-took his seat at the table. Ignoring the confused looks he was getting from his fellow comrades, he slapped his hands on the table and announced, "Deal me in, mates!"

"What did the colonel mean, he 'had to see a man about a date'?" LeBeau asked; his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Oh, Klink's got a date, and wants the gov'nor's advice…you know how he is."

"Seems to me, Klink's date is the one who needs the advice," Kinch commented.

The men chuckled; then Carter turned to Newkirk. "So, what's going on between you and the colonel, anyway?"

Newkirk inhaled sharply and started coughing. "What are…*cough*…you talking about?" he asked.

LeBeau smiled sweetly at him. "Looks like you're lucky in love, after all," he teased.

Newkirk saw the same smiles on Kinch and Carter, and he scowled. "You, twisters!" he replied angrily, "You listened at the door, didn't you?"

"Only long enough to hear about the colonel's shoulder," LeBeau said; then his smile faded. "Why didn't you tell us he hurt it?"

Newkirk shrugged, "Because he didn't want me to."

The other men nodded.

Newkirk grabbed the deck that was sitting on the table in front of Kinch and started to shuffle the cards. "So, are you lot plannin' to play cards or what?"

"I'm in!" Carter exclaimed.

"Me, too," Kinch confirmed.

LeBeau looked at Newkirk, his eyes narrowing. "As long as you don't cheat again, mon ami."

"I didn't cheat!" Newkirk huffed, "I'm just…lucky at cards."

A small smile formed on LeBeau's face. "That's what I thought," he muttered; then grabbed the deck out of Newkirk's hand and began to deal.

The End


End file.
